Drunken Kisses Leave a Bitter Taste On My Lips
by Emerin
Summary: Denial only went so far. ximplied RonHarry slash x


I'm just absolutely HORRIBLE! Doing all these oneshots when I got other works on the back burner. But! I did get alot done for my last chapter of GRAVITY and I even started some new Hands Off! and Hikaru no Go oneshots. Not done, OF COURSE, but they're shaping up to be reaaallllly good and angsty. LOVE THE ANGST!

Speaking of which, here's a lovely lil' diddy I did inlight of my own feelings towards a recent ex. Its in Ron's POV, post-hogwarts. Background is pretty basic and you can tell what it is if you read between the lines.  
hint: yes, thats harry he's referring to at the end.

Enjoy and REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!

* * *

His fingers curled in the sheets as his mouth opened to cry out in silence. Heated bodies slid against eachother with slipper ease and he moaned wantonly as he buried his face into the mattress. His back arched, skin flushed, damp, scratched. The air filled with shameless groans and cries of delight and adoration. Empty words of love and doting sentiments were required for this sort of thing. It seemed almost...natural. 

His nails clutched at the bedpost, crimson locks sticking to his sweaty neck and forehead and cheeks and he gave into sweet sweet oblivion.

_i don't understand that i don't give a damn  
cause its making no sense to me  
i'm caught inbetween your lies and my dreams  
i should know that, but i can't see  
_

Darkness crept steadily into every corner of the silent room. It was almost suffocating. The city itself was asleep, only the occasional night owl stumbling down the sidewalk in inebriated bliss. So nobody heard the shaking mouse quickly gathering his things and scurrying out the door as fast as his little legs could carry him.

Nobody saw the shameful tears.

_with the sound of your voice  
the brake of your car  
of every little damnthing  
its driving me crazy and i can't understand  
cause its making no sense to me_

It was one thing to say it, another to actually DO it.

What's the greatest happiness one can know in love? Is it kissing? Is it embracing? Or is it...sex?

He knew it was futile to think such thoughts at this time of night with a complete lack of rest and food in his belly. But it couldn't be helped. Too many nights, days, weeks, had passed with these thoughts. It was driving him mad to keep asking the questions without ever getting the replies. Perhaps it was simple. So simple he'd overlooked the answer in some sort of analytical disasterwith a pint of ice cream.

But if it was so simple, why then had he missed it time and time again? Surely by now the answer should've atleast stumbled across his mind in an act of frustration. He couldn't be this stupid. This hopeless.

But here he was, how many days later? On the bed, in the dark, at 4 in the morning. He wasn't hungry, wasn't thirsty, but his stomach ached and his throat was dry. Maybe it was that bottle of Bailey's. Perfectly plausible.

No. No...no.

Denial was a beautiful companion. Beautiful and fickle. She abadoned you whenever she felt like it and held you close right when you needed to face reality. Denial was his best friend.

So was that it? His simple answer? He was in...denial?

That couldn't be right...

He stretched languidly across his bed, folds of cool sheets spilling across his naked skin and scars. He still felt flushed. Maybe that was the cause of all these trecherous thoughts. It was fatigue. That boy had wiped him out.

He bit his lip, staring out the window at the velvet sky and mulled over the contours of his body, the taste of his throat, the strength in his touch and the world behind his eyes. Such a rare find. Such a rare man. And he'd never see him again.

Denial, hmm?

He rolled onto his stomach, resting his fevered cheek against a forgiving arm. Tangling slender fingers through his blood red hair, he tried to imagine the boy doing the same.  
But it didn't seem right. He was gentle, despite the dangerous muscles that slithered beneath deliciously tan flesh. He would never grip or yank or harm.

He imagined his head being jerked back and his lips claimed forcefully. He would be flipped onto his back and his legs spread and he would moan in helpless pleasure. His wrists would be pinned above his head and he'd gaze longingly at his captor, willingly giving into their desires. He'd give. Give it all. Give everything he had and what he couldn't, he'd find a way to give anyway. And they'd take. Take it and him and the worldthen spit it back out.

He laid his headon the cool pillow and listened to the sounds of the early church goers. Mommys and Daddys and little kiddies, traisping happily to the Lord's haven where they'd sing and smile and feel forgiven for their sins. He sighed, eyelashes lowering as a new sort of feeling blossomed and spread inside him like an infection.

Denial only went so far.

The sky had lightened to a dull grey as the final signs of heavy fatigue finally took their toll on his lithe body. His lids slowly closed shut against the rising sun and the blooming pain consuming his empty heart.

After a decent rest, he'd wake up and greet his dear friend Denial once more, as if they'd never parted. He'd forget the moments of desperation and agony that night always brought, and they'd both never speak of it.

He would never admit a tear had fallen at the stinging memory of a warm hand, a soft voice and a sweet smile that, once upon a time, would lull him to sleep.

_i don't wanna be the one you're not thinking of  
i don't wanna be anywhere not near you  
i'm sorry if i'm a little confused since you're leaving  
you had to think it was the wrong to do_


End file.
